


Will You Still Be Here When I Get Home?

by dragonofdispair



Series: Morning [9]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: BDSM, Colored Lube, Condoms, Consensual Infidelity, Contraception, Genital Rubbing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-War, Restraints, Sexual Content, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, collar and leash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21586021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofdispair/pseuds/dragonofdispair
Summary: Ricochet’s feeling off and Prowl comforts him the only way they both can accept.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Ricochet
Series: Morning [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553491
Comments: 20
Kudos: 92





	Will You Still Be Here When I Get Home?

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta’d

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

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Of all of Prowl’s lovers, Ricochet was the most keenly attuned to the fact that Prowl was an Enforcer. Over time, Prowl had become less keenly attuned to the fact that Ricochet had once been a professional shoplifter, a criminal, but still… Ricochet was only comfortable with Prowl’s job if Ricochet was in control. He was not comfortable at all with Prowl spiking him, and didn’t even often want him stimulating or performing oral on his valve. In Ricochet’s world, Prowl was a lover, a friend, a submissive who needed to be humiliated and then loved and cared for, but if he tried to be an equal, a superior, or especially an aggressor in any interaction, Ricochet would bolt.

Or worse, lock himself down emotionally and prepare himself for the worst.

Knowing how some of his colleagues felt justified in treating those who broke the law, Prowl could understand the reaction.

But it meant that, without Jazz there as a buffer, it was hard to approach Ricochet. He had to do it as a needy submissive, not a roommate or a friend. That was fine, Prowl thought as he examined himself in the mirror, because he _was_ a needy submissive. He was lonely. Submissives were allowed to feel lonely; Enforcers were not.

Self-sufficient former-criminals weren’t allowed to feel lonely or depressed either.

His collar and ownership tags were in place. He’d chosen the collar with a loop so that his leash could hang down in front of him. He just needed to wrestle himself into the doorwing restraint.

This was not a toy he was meant to be able to put on by himself, but he managed by using the quick release mechanism in reverse. The angle it pulled them down to was uncomfortable, and it was always disconcerting to be unable to stand or walk. Prowl didn’t like how it felt, but he liked knowing he was helpless and his valve clenched needily under his modesty plating. Ricochet would appreciate his helpless state too.

Forced to crawl, it was slow going. He eased himself out of his and Jazz’s room and down the hall towards the washroom. In the den area, evidence of Ricochet’s so-far futile apartment search was spread out over their eating table. They’d offered Ricochet the couch, but he’d refused, citing an active social life and a need for privacy in which to entertain his many lovers. Instead, they’d cleared out the linen closet in the hall for Ricochet to live in for a few decacycles. It was a relatively large closet, large enough that he’d been able to assemble his berth in there, though there was no room for anything else. They’d attached a pair of floating shelves to the wall for the few belongings he needed constant access to; the rest fit under his bed. Prowl had struggled not to feel pity when he’d realized everything Ricochet owned could fit in their closet.

Despite that desired privacy, Ricochet had not had any lovers over. Except for Smokescreen, but Smokescreen was one of Prowl’s expanded circle of doms as well as Ricochet’s lover and he hadn't been focused on Ricochet while he was here. Still, Prowl knocked politely at the closed door. Maybe Ricochet was asleep.

“S’open,” Ricochet grunted moodily from inside.

Prowl eased the door open, then peeked over the end of Ricochet’s berth, making sure to show off his collar and tags, and made a soft interrogative sound.

Ricochet was sitting sideways on the berth so he could both lean and brace against the wall, playing a game on a handheld system. Prowl wasn’t well-versed enough to know which one. He paused it and looked up. “Hi, Pet.” He patted the berth next to him.

Prowl exaggerated his struggles to climb up onto the bed, emphasizing his helplessness with his doorwings bound, and whimpered in distress. It was a show, and Ricochet dutifully watched and did not offer to help.

As soon as he was in reach, the game system was set aside, and Ricochet used the leash to pull Prowl prone on the bed. The bed wasn’t wide enough for them to lay side by side, so when Ricochet laid down he was on top of Prowl, pinning him. Prowl purred his approval of this situation.

“You wanna have sex?” Ricochet whispered, rubbing his spike panel against Prowl’s aft. “I’m not in the mood to torture you, though.”

“That’s alright. I want,” Prowl opened up his modesty plating and arched into the pinning hold, rubbing his moist mesh against the hard angle of Ricochet’s spike panel. “I want to be taken. Owned.” _I want to hug you and be your friend…_ and this was the only way either of them could accept that. “Please. Just frag me.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Prowl felt Ricochet’s panel open and the spike extended slowly. He rubbed it between the plush folds around Prowl’s valve, stimulating them both and Prowl moaned. He could feel himself growing wet, starting to leak lubrication in anticipation.

Prowl’s optics tried to roll back in pleasure when he felt Ricochet’s hands on his doors, petting and stimulating him while he thrust against his valve. He let himself moan wantonly; if Ricochet hadn’t been pinning him, he would have returned the favor, petting and stimulating Ricochet as well, but he knew Ricochet wouldn’t want that, not from him, until later after Prowl had submitted thoroughly enough. Right now, he was starting to suspect that Ricochet intended to get off just by rubbing against him.

“Please,” he pleaded.

“What’s that?” Ricochet chuckled, thrusting slowly though the lubrication Prowl could feel just leaking out of his valve without ever entering him.

“Please take me,” Prowl whimpered, breaking down to beg. The flat inflection of his voice was distressing, but he didn’t have the concentration he needed to mimic a more natural rhythm. “Take me. I want you inside me.”

Ricochet’s weight left him while he rolled a condom onto his spike. He almost always did that or made some other arrangement to keep his transfluid out of Prowl, despite the fact that he knew Prowl had an implant. It was sweet, in its way, and now that he’d grown used to the pause, the sound, the brief interruption made Prowl writhe in anticipation. The crinkle-rip of it being opened, the near-silent moment where he rolled it on, the pop-squirt of his chosen lube bottle being opened and poured onto the sheathed spike… Prowl could smell the distinctive, acrid, scent of Ricochet’s favorite ink-lube that would stain the inside of his valve and dribble out to stain his legs for cycles or until he washed at least two or three times. There would be no hiding what he’d done…

He wondered which color Ricochet had chosen. Yellow? Purple? Pink? All of them were florescent colors that Prowl despised and he whined in want.

“You want me to take you with no prep?” Ricochet asked, settling down on top of Prowl again. He lifted Prowl’s hips, bent his knees to give himself a better angle and this time his spike nudged insistently at Prowl’s entrance instead of sliding past it.

“Yes,” Prowl moaned, feeling his fans kick into a higher rotation at the thought. Ricochet’s spike was a good size for his frametype, but Prowl’s valve could handle a lot bigger with very little preparation after so many vorns of practice. If Ricochet just thrust in without any stretching at all, Prowl would feel the delicious ache and burn before his body adjusted. Maybe even for joors afterward.

Ricochet gave him no further warning; he pushed his spike in all the way to the hilt in a single, hard stroke. Prowl let out a cry of pleasure-pain, arching into Ricochet’s hold.

“You feel so good, Prowl,” Ricochet moaned as he pulled out then pushed himself back in, making Prowl writhe. “Just what I needed right now.”

The part of Prowl that remembered he’d come in here to try and comfort Ricochet heated in pride at the praise. The rest of him was too busy being used for Ricochet’s satisfaction.

Usually, Ricochet would point out at least once that Prowl was a _cop_ and was being used and debased by a _common criminal,_ but not this time. He may have been treating Prowl in the somewhat rougher manner Pet preferred, but he was moaning out words of enjoyment, even praise. Prowl was such a good lay, so good, so tight, how did he manage to stay so tight, just what he needed right now, oh yes, oh yes, Prowl this was so good…

“Yess…” Prowl wailed back. He was good.

The ache from the rough entrance eventually became a smooth glide as Ricochet plunged in and out of him. He could feel Ricochet’s thrusts becoming erratic and he arched into him, letting himself…

“Nnnnmm!” Ricochet exclaimed, blending into Prowl’s much higher cry as they overloaded together.

They collapsed into a heap in the bed and Ricochet pulled out of Prowl’s valve and got up so he could discard the used condom and its contents in a trash bag attached to the closet’s door handle.

“That was good,” he rasped, returning to lay down on top of Prowl. “You’re such a good pet.”

Prowl preened, though he knew exactly what sort of mess he was right now. He felt as well fragged as he knew he looked, and that colored lube would be leaking out of his valve right now, highlighting his state.

But Ricochet gathered him into his arms like a cuddle toy and breathed against his plating. Taking comfort in him. Mission accomplished.

They stayed like that for a while. Prowl feigned sleep when he felt Ricochet clutch him tightly and shake. He didn’t cry, but it was obvious he needed something, someone. And he wouldn’t let himself take comfort unless he’d just had sex with someone, which was why Prowl had come here, ready to be taken. Prowl wasn’t sure he was adequate, but if Ricochet wasn’t going to invite his other lovers over…

“I need to get up and go to work.” Ricochet eventually whispered.

“I know,” Prowl said, careful to interject an audible note of understanding into his voice. “I feel fine. Just a little chilled.”

The bed still wasn’t wide enough for them to lay side by side, but Ricochet managed to wiggle off of him. A moment later a blanket was tucked around him. “Stay here,” he commanded. “Where it’s warm.”

“I—“ he really shouldn’t. Jazz would be home from his gig before Ricochet got home from work. He should bathe, wash the ink out of his valve, go to his own bed and wait there. One wash wouldn’t hide what he’d done from Jazz, but he was allowed to interface with Ricochet, so that wasn’t what he was worried about. It would just be embarrassing to be caught in Ricochet’s bed, with all the evidence literally painted across his plating. As though to drive the point home, he felt some of his ink-stained lubricant leak out of him and drip down onto the sheets.

Prowl could hear the smirk. “I insist.” Ricochet took a hold of the leash. “I’m going to tie you to the headboard now,” he said.

Or that. Prowl shivered. _Green_ he pinged to him before Ricochet could ask for the safeword, as was his habit when he narrated something he was going to do to him. If he was going to be _ordered_ to embarrass himself, be found by Jazz in another’s bed with another’s ‘fluid inside him, that was fine.

“Good, Pet.” Ricochet tied the leash around one of the posts; it was a large, loose knot Prowl would have no problem untying if he wanted. Then he slithered out of the bed, arranging blankets and tucking him in as he went. “Stay here, and stay warm.”

“Yes, Ricochet.”

Prowl snuggled down into the blankets to wait for Jazz to get home.

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End


End file.
